


Sometime, Anytime (Sugar Me Sweet)

by kbs_was_here



Category: Glee
Genre: Baking, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:53:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbs_was_here/pseuds/kbs_was_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn's a celebrity chef. Rachel's been out of town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Faberry Week 2013 (The Sequel)  
> Prompt: Reunion
> 
> poetzproblem is responsible for Miley's new career path.

"Last looks!"

Brenda takes one final look at Quinn's lipstick and decides it's acceptable. Meanwhile, Geoff spritzes another puff of hairspray before he's satisfied and then the hair and make-up team scurries to the edge of the soundstage.

"Back to live in five, four, three, two and..."

The studio audience cheers at the prompting of both the warm-up comedian and the illuminated signs on either side of the stage.

"Welcome back to the show, y'all!"

A decade ago, Quinn probably would have laughed anyone out of the room if they'd told her she'd be on a morning show co-hosted by Miley Cyrus. But, time proved that people can apparently shed old personas, even ones based on a twerking empire and terrible haircuts, and the father-daughter Cyrus duo has dominated the A.M. talk show circuit for the last three years.

Quinn's flanked on either side by Miley and Billy Ray as they stand on the show's kitchen set.

"As promised," Billy Ray says, "we're here with celebrity chef, Quinn Fabray, who's going to show up how to whip up some animal friendly snack foods for those upcoming holiday parties."

"Now, you got into vegan baking because of your wife, right?" Miley asks.

Quinn nods. "Yes. For as long as I've known her, she's been lecturing just about everyone she ever meets about the benefits of a vegan diet."

"Did she finally get to you?" asks Billy Ray. "Have you given up on meat, altogether? I don't think I could do it."

There's a light laugh from Quinn. "When we were first dating, she had already started steering me toward meatless options. Which was fine. I've always been pretty health conscious."

Miley elbows her. "Do you ever just dream about, like, a double bacon cheeseburger? I know the little lady's been out of town, so maybe she'll never know."

Quinn laughs. "No comment." It's been big entertainment news that Rachel's over in London since October, working on the new Rowling approved Harry Potter musical.

"Well," Miley continues, "I know that today you're showing us some super cute mini-pies that are great for small dinner parties."

"But," Billy Ray interjects, "before you get into that, we have a little holiday surprise for you."

"Is it that cheeseburger? Because I might be tempt--" The end of Quinn's sentence dies out, because she's watching Rachel enter from the wings. Rachel, who she hasn't seen in the flesh in six and a half weeks.

Quinn doesn't think she's ever seen a moment in time when Rachel's ignored an audience, but her wife pays no attention to the bleachers full of people applauding and cheering her entrance. Instead, it looks like she's trying desperately not to trip on her own heels as she runs the last few steps to Quinn. Their arms lock around each other in a tight hug.

"Oh my god," Quinn says. They share a chaste kiss, but they're also aware they're still on live television, so greeting Rachel with a steamy make out session is probably not something the FCC would approve during the morning time-slot.

Rachel pulls back and grins at Quinn, then finally turns to wave and smile at the studio audience.

"Surprised?" Miley asks, rounding the two of them to greet Rachel.

"I'm... yes." Quinn still isn't sure what she's seeing is real. Rachel wasn't due back until just before New Year's, which is two weeks away.

"We have to take a break, but when we come back, one of America's favorite couples is going to show us their holiday baking secrets!"

"And, we're clear!" is the call through the air that signals they're off the air.

Quinn pulls Rachel to her, again. "What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't about to leave you alone for Christmas. You love Christmas."

"I think you, actually, love Christmas more than I do."

Rachel tips her head up to look at Quinn, "Maybe. But I love you more than I love Christmas."

"More than the year the entire tree had Barbra themed ornaments."

"It's a close call."

They only have a minute and a half before they're back on and Quinn wants to spend at least half of that kissing Rachel, but Brenda and Geoff are wedging their way between them, doing touch ups and then there's a countdown leading them right back to the show.

Quinn's a professional. She's done dozens of talk show appearances and she shoots an episode of her own show every week. But she's having difficulty focusing on her hosts, because Rachel is right next to her. They've even given her an apron that matches Quinn's. Though, even with the apron on, It's still apparent that Rachel's dress has a bit of a plunging neckline. Maybe it's the angle, since Quinn is so close and just tall enough that she can see right down--

"Okay, so Quinn, where do we start with this?" Miley asks, from the other side of Rachel.

"Well, we..." Quinn centers herself so she can continue. "We want to start with the dough, which we've already made up before hand. I think you guys are putting the recipe on the website, so people can check that out. This one's made with vegan butter, but you can also do this with the regular stuff." When Rachel makes a face, Quinn playfully elbows her and slaps the ball of dough into her hand. "Rachel's really good at rolling it out."

"That's because she doesn't let me actually do things on the stove," Rachel says.

"That's because she tends to ignite things," Quinn counters as the audience laughs. Rachel rolls out the dough like she has many times in the past, then Quinn cuts the sizes she needs for the small tarts she's preparing and presses them into the baking pans. "So, we're going to pre-bake these and while that's happening, we'll work on the filling."

Rachel already knows what's next as she reaches for the bowl of pre-diced apples. "Do you need all of these?" she asks, picking up one and popping it in her mouth.

Quinn looks right at the camera. "She does this at home, too." More laughter. She begins to explain what's going into the pie filling, dumping the necessary ingredients into a saucepan and cooking it down into a caramel sauce before mixing it with the apples into a pie crust that's already finished.

For some reason, Rachel feels compelled to flick flour at her. When Quinn turns to raise an eyebrow at her, Rachel just shrugs with, "I just thought we were doing this the same way we do it at home." That really gets the audience giggling.

Quinn's hand snaps out to grab the can of vegan whipped topping that's at the edge of the counter and cocks her finger on the nozzle. "Is that what you want?"

"Oh, y'all get serious when you cook, I can see that!" Miley steps back, away from the couple.

Quinn doesn't advance on Rachel. Instead, she just sprays a little of the stuff onto her finger, then moves to taste it, but at the last second she swipes her hand across Rachel's nose. The audience screams in delight. The cooking segment is over and Quinn doesn't really care. These morning shows are really just a picture lesson with ingredients, anyway.

"When we come back, we have some great last minute gift ideas!" As they're cleared for commercial, the crew shifts to another part of the stage that's set up for the next segment. 

Quinn pokes at the topping on Rachel's nose, then wipes it away. "Speaking of gift ideas, what'd you bring me from London?"

"Nothing."

"Oh."

"But I did bring you something from France."

"Oh?"

Rachel unties her apron and then tugs a little at the already low neckline of her dress, revealing red and black lace.

Quinn's right eyebrow peaks. "Fait-il chaud ici, ou c'est juste vous?"

"It's hot in here and it's me. So, both." Rachel slips her hand into Quinn's. "And if you're going to speak French to me, can we go somewhere where you can do it with less words? I haven't been intimate with my wife in six weeks."

"Oui." Quinn brushes her nose against Rachel's, which is still slightly sticky. "Je t'aime."

"I love you, too."


	2. Television Lover, Baby (Go All Night)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and Quinn find themselves in Rachel's old bedroom together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Faberry Week 2013 (The Sequel)  
> Prompt: Sleepover

Because Rachel’s made it back in time for the holidays, she and Quinn decide to spend the end of 2013 in Lima. This is partly because, in her wife’s absence, Quinn hadn’t felt particularly motivated to decorate their SoHo apartment for the season beyond the holiday greeting cards displayed on the fireplace mantle. But it’s also because once the Berrymen realized their baby girl was back from Europe weeks ahead of schedule, they insisted the women come out and see them. It’s a great idea, actually, because Rachel doesn’t have anything scheduled and Quinn’s cooking show is on hiatus until mid-January.

It’s the week before Christmas and Rachel’s sitting on her childhood bed, her legs tucked under her as she flips through an old copy of Broadway magazine that she pulled from the bookshelf. This one, like the others that occupy the same shelf, still has pages marked, annotated with Post-Its about roles she wanted to play and her performances reviews of shows she’d seen.

The door to the bathroom opens and Quinn enters, wrapped in a towel. She takes one look at Rachel and smiles. “Well hey, sexy.”

Rachel’s wearing classic flannel winter pajamas from Victoria’s Secret, dark blue with a night sky star pattern on them. Quinn has a set of her own that are very similar, but with gray and white stripes. In fact, they’re what she’s pulling out of the bottom dresser drawer, right now. Even though they unpacked their bags into the previously empty dresser together only a few hours ago, it feels to Rachel like it’s a sleepover. Like she’s sixteen again and Quinn’s come over on Saturday night.

Only, if she’d had Quinn in her room, still damp from a hot shower, pulling a clingy cotton tank top over her head while cotton pajama pants barely clung to her hips, Rachel doesn’t know how she would have reacted.

A smirk creeps across Quinn’s lips. “What?”

“Just wondering how I would have handled this back in high school?”

“Which part?”

“You.” When Rachel speaks, her gaze is on Quinn’s breasts, particularly her nipples, which are pert and prominent through the thin fabric of the tank top.

Quinn runs her fingers through her towel dried hair, the shaggy cut falling wherever it wants. “You didn’t even know you wanted to handle me in high school,” she says, crawling onto the bed so that she’s on her knees in front of Rachel.

“Oh, and you did?”

“No. Please, I didn’t even know what an orgasm felt like until I was in college.”

For that, Rachel slaps her magazine at Quinn’s stomach. “It’s bad form to talk about former partners in bed.”

“What if,” Quinn grabs for the copy of Broadway, “I tell you that the ones I’ve had with you are always much, much better?”

Rachel releases the magazine and Quinn tosses it on the floor. “It’s a start.”

Quinn’s mouth is on hers and they’re falling back against the mattress. Rachel’s head hits the pillow and her arms are around Quinn, pulling their bodies together. A firm, flannel clad thigh falls between her own and there’s friction as Quinn’s hips rock against her. Rachel’s hands are all over Quinn’s back, tugging at the shirt, fingers drawing it upward so she can grip the expanse of pale skin. But it’s not enough.

“Babe,” she breathes, “I know the room’s the same as it was when I was sixteen, but… as my wife, you can get me naked.”

Quinn angles her body so that there’s one more firm undulation of pressure between Rachel’s legs, but then her fingers are busy with unbuttoning the flannel pajama top. Halfway through, Quinn abandons the idea of buttons and just pulls the shirt up over her wife’s head. There’s a hot mouth on Rachel’s breasts, but she wants Quinn to undress, too, so she fumbles with the top as she tries to focus on dexterity. She removes the garment and decides that, if she wants Quinn’s pants off, she has to take some control, so she wraps her legs around Quinn’s waist and flips them over.

“Fuck, Rachel,” Quinn grunts, caught off guard by the change in position.

“Mmmhmm,” is Rachel’s reply as she tugs the pants down. They’re on the floor in seconds, but then Quinn’s hands are around her waist, pulling her back up, then one of those hands is in her own pants. She’s not wearing underwear. Neither of them wear any to bed, anymore. Which means Quinn is totally naked, sitting up, her mouth on the skin below Rachel’s collarbone. Two fingers slip easily through the wetness at Rachel’s core and then push into her. There’s a gasp from Rachel and she has a fistful of Quinn’s hair, twisting her grip as her hips rock to match the pace of Quinn’s wrist as it flexes between her legs. Quinn’s thumb swipes across her clit and Rachel involuntarily cries out.

Quinn’s lips immediately cover her own. “Shhh, your parents are home,” she mumbles. And then makes it even more difficult to remain quiet when she angles her fingers inside of Rachel, just right.

There’s a strong arm tightly wrapped around her waist and Quinn keeps kissing her until Rachel’s head drops forward to rest against Quinn’s shoulder. Her breathing is labored and her lower body is moving of its own accord, erratic until the moment hits and she finds release. There’s a muffled, “Oh god,” that’s lost against Quinn’s shoulder as her back arches and hips press forward and then hold as the orgasm rolls through her. 

When she relaxes, she slumps against Quinn, who gently lies back and pulls Rachel with her. “I don’t think you could have been nearly that quiet back then.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rachel mutters, lazily lifting her head to look at her wife. “The room’s soundproofed, remember?”

“I thought that was just a rumor.” Quinn’s looking at her, then the walls of the room. “Is it?”

“The neighbors stopped complaining about my singing. But I’ve never given anyone screaming orgasms in here, so…” Rachel says, her fingers playfully trailing down past Quinn’s stomach. “Guess we’ll find out.”


End file.
